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Fiona had been on her way back to her table, attracting a few more approving looks from the men otherwise busy approving of the young fox on the stage, when she felt a small, wiry hand on her elbow. Normally, a sudden moment of contact would have resulted in a quick fist to a slow jaw, but she recognized this hand. And the liquid voice that accompanied it.
"Why, if it ain't Lady Luck 'erself, 'ere t'bless us all wiv 'er presence..!"
"Why, if it ain't my own pet weasel." Fiona smirked over at the shady man that had halted her progress.
His name was Reggie McAllis, and he was indeed a weasel. Greased back dark hair, dark brown eyes, and even darker circles around them. The man looked truly awful, more bum than business, with a shabby coat and a single ripped pocket. But this appearance was the true sham. Behind those dark eyes, barrels and buckets of valuable information lay in hiding, just waiting to be bought. Whenever Fiona needed a nugget of advice, something she couldn't find for herself, she contacted Reggie. He almost always knew what she wanted before she did. But when he took the initiative and found her himself....he was bound to have a particularly juicy bit.
"Take a seat, Reggie." She led him away from her own table, towards an empty one in the back. A bottle of fancy giggle water later, and his sealed lips opened.
"Got some real news for ya, my Lady Luck." His lips parted in a slimy grin. "Some nice li'l tidbits and bobs...yer gonna loff it."
"The remains to be seen. So let's hear it."
He leaned in, hand over his mouth, and whispered, "Bruyere's in town."
Fiona sat back, disappointed. "Good to know. Would have been better to know a couple of hours ago, before I ran into him upstairs. You're losing your touch."
"Wait, wait wait!!" Reggie sat up, catching hold of her arm as she attempted to leave...with the bottle. "I got more! He di'in't tell ya how 'e nabs all them..er...business folk, did 'e? Did 'e tell ya all 'is vices? Eh?"
Fiona sat back down, returning the bottle to his greedy hands. "Spill, then."
And he spilled. And spilled. And spilled.
After a few heavy minutes of excited whispers, Fiona left her personal weasel to his reward, mind buzzing, face calm. Step one in tackling a potential bump in the road: Know more of them than they know of you.
Sliding back into her original seat, she smiled sweetly. "How's that 'tea' treating you, Duvick?"

Fiona simply laughed, motioning for another round of sake. Normally, she might have shoved her pistol up the nose of the impertinent whelp, but tonight was going well for Lady Luck, and decided to be gracious.
"I like you, kid. You've got guts." She leaned back in her chair, topping off her own cup with a single swig. "Tell me...what is it you do when you're not hanging around looking for drinks?"
Eager young men with spines were a valuable commodity to the professional........real estate agent.

"Oh, I know where you're coming from, alright.." Fiona sipped at her drink, eyes dancing with amusement. "The fight, the struggle to survive...the fact that you have to claw your way up if you want to be anything more than the hoods that make up the general rabble."
She leaned back in her chair, withdrawing a cigarette from her inside pocket.
"Let me explain something to you, Johnny..." She nodded over to the gorgeous jane that was receiving admiration from her fans. "You see that dame over there? She's pretty, she can sing, and she's working in a high class joint. But once that chassis dried up...you know what she's gonna have?" She looked once more to the dark haired beauty. "Memories. And a sugar daddy that's lookin' for a newer model."
"Now, look at me.." She motioned to herself. "I've scratched and clawed my way to where I am. I'm not at the top, but I'm closer than enough people to be considered 'up there.'" It was a story that anyone who knew of 'Lady Luck' knew well enough. The dame that had jumped to the bottom so she could climb to the top. From family member to family connection.
She held out her cigarette, and instantly five men were there to light it. Pulling it back in, eyes remaining on Johnny, she took a drag and blew the smoke up to the ceiling. "It takes more than gams or connections to get places, Johnny." She eyed him carefully, ashing the cigarette into a marble bowl. "And you strike me as a man that wants to get places."
And there it was. Subtle, as was any business deal, but a clear offer for employment.

Fiona eyed the 'kid' approvingly, the faintest of smiles on her lips. Not removing her eyes from him, she reached into the same pocket that contained her cigarettes. Out came a card...and a pin. A clover. She placed them on the table before him...ripe for the taking.
"I think you should know, Mr. Duvick...I play for keeps. Someone that works for me...works for me. If you're really interested in climbing that ladder.." She stood, flicking her smoke to the floor. She tapped the business card on the table with a single finger. "..Eight o'clock, tomorrow morning. Sleep well."
With this she turned and strode off into the crowd, receiving a few more looks from the gorgeous singer's fans as she went.

Once the strongman and the woman had made their exit, Shin strode over to the table to collect the dishes.
"Ho-ho! You get lucky clover? You fortunate man. You know what you could do with that?" He nodded to the pin that Johnny had been left with. "Is lucky, lucky man that gets clover mark. Unless you dead when you get it. But then luck no matter so much."
He chuckled at his own wit. then placed a bottle in front of Johnny. "From Lady Luck, she say you promise it to your friends. You come back soon, no?"
And with that, the ancient juice joint operator went back out onto his floor, to congratulate his singer on a fantastic performance.

The rest of the night and collections went by without much ado. No other clients were late in payment, there were no other interesting young men...
So with a pocketful of cash, she arrived back at her family's 'office.'

In she went, bidding Anvil good night. Shedding her hat and jacket, she made it back into her father's office.
"No real hitches tonight, da." She handed him the list and the cash. "I'm going back to Nicky's in two days. Good night."
"Fiona." She stopped at the doorway, grimacing slightly. But when she turned to face him, she was calm as ever.
"Yes, da?"
"...Good work. Don't stay out too late."

As she walked away, she breathed a soft sigh of relief. Maybe this would be her last night with a chaperon. Maybe not. Either way, she still had work to do.
Slipping down the streets back to her personal apartment, she shrugged off her 'business' clothes. Thinking of what she had just learned about her new...friend...she picked out the most eye catching outfit she had. Weak in the knees around the janes, eh? There...that should do it. She admired her form in the mirror for a moment, adjusting her hair, smoothing out her dress. She didn't normally run around in her glad rags, she preferred something she could run in...but this was a special occasion. Dark purple dress, form fitting and low cut, matching gloves and a gold chain around her throat. Tugging on her jacket (no occasion was special enough for one of those stupid feather boas that most dames carried around these days), she took off in the direction she had been told by her most informative weasel.
A few blocks in, and she found herself before a common apartment complex, tall and unassuming. Well, this is the address..
She entered, clutching her jacket to herself like a woman caught in the cold. There was a janitor working at the floor.
"Excuse me, sir!" She spoke with a soft, sweet voice. "Is Mr. Bruyere in?"
Mister, not Detective. It made her sound innocent.
"Oh...ah...no, he ain't back in yet, sweetheart." The man looked up in surprise. "Shouldn't be too long, though...can I leave 'im a message for ya?"
She sighed, resting one hand lightly to her brow. "No, no...could you just tell me what number he's staying in?"
The janitor hesitated, shuffling his feet slightly. She emit a sweet-natured giggle. "I'm his wife. He moved in ahead of me to get settled."
This was good enough for the janitor, and he led her up to the room. In she went.
She wandered about quickly, taking in whatever she could without disturbing the room. Satisfied with her newly gleaned information, she settled herself into the seat behind the desk, crossed her legs, and waited.

Fiona's lips curved into a slow smile. Let the games begin.
"Does that surprise you, Bruyere? I could have sworn you invited me.." She sat back, casually unbuttoning her jacket. "By the way, I found this on your doorstep."
She produced a bottle of fine wine. "Must have been a gift from some sort of dapper."

Lightly tossing her jacket across the back of the chair, she accepted the wine.
"A proposal, so soon? Well, you seem like a decent man, why not?" She smirked at him over the rim of her glass. "You better have one swanky handcuff for me, or da will never have you."
Leaning back in the chair and recrossing her legs, she eyed him carefully, attempting to keep her look alluring at the same time.
"Why don't you lay out the specifics for me?"

Fiona's mouth pulled into an attempt at a seductive smirk, her eyes trained on the handcuffs.
"Sounds like you've got your ducks all in a row, Bruyere." She topped off her drink and set the cup down, licking her lips. "So here's my thoughts.."
Leaning back in the chair, her eyes shifted from the cuffs to his face. "If I were, as you say..some sort of gangster...then I would be most hesitant to give you, a successful investigator, any information about myself and my family."
Rule 1: No information about me or my family.
"But as I said, we're humble real estate agents. All of us."
Rule 2: The Muirenns get immunity.
"And, I'm gonna be on the level with you, here...I'm afraid I'm a bit of a jealous woman. It's not my most attractive feature, but I really dislike competition."
Rule 3: You work with only me or not at all.
"However, I am in a position where...well, let's just say I hear some interesting whispers...I find myself, in my adventures as a real estate agent, amongst certain people that may or may not like to beat their gums in my presence. I hear things. Things I'm sure you would love to hear."
With this she stood, moving to the window and gazing out at the street. The moonlight was caught on the shine of her dress in an interesting way, a lovely sight...much the way a smoking gun was beautiful.
"What do you say?"